


Superhero

by lemonjarr



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF Toby Smith | Tubbo, Fluff, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slice of Life, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, character tags will be added as they appear in chapters, everyone is just living in peace and then. boom. tubbo, writers block kicked down my door and stabbed me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonjarr/pseuds/lemonjarr
Summary: And for a second, through glasses of honey and laughs and yells, Tubbo considers just saying that he will eventually have to leave. He really should go. It’s not safe for them, it’s not safe for him, he needs to leave.One day, his past will come back to bite him in the arse.But, however selfish it is, he wants to stay. And he hates himself for it.-inspired by superhero by the slightlys
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & Ranboo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 144





	1. cloaks and crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He reaches out a hand to grab it, stopping to get Ranboo’s permission (he nods), and lifting it into his hands.
> 
> It isn’t as weighty as he thought it was, so the dip of the pillow must mean it had been sitting there for a bit. And judging from the thin layer of dust on top of the poky edges, it must’ve been there for quite a while.
> 
> The jewels are shiny, with a smooth feel to it when he brushes his fingers over it like a paintbrush would to a canvas. “These jewels must be expensive,” he muses, not glancing up from the crown. It entrances him, almost.

Tubbo knows four things right now.

One; he needs to find shelter. He needs somewhere to stay, even if it’s just for a night or two. It’s raining, the water droplets running down his neck and spine. It’s cold.

Two; he misses his brother. He used to live and survive with his brother, but one year ago he was hit very hard on the head with a sword and woke up in a flower field. Now, he’s running in the rain, hoping to not catch a cold.

Three; he’s tired. His breath is heavy and uncoordinated. His legs are sore from running and they sting with cold, freezing rain. His beige jacket isn’t doing anything for him. He wants to throw it off of himself.

Four; he needs food. Desperately. His stomach began to cave in and his ribs had started to become more and more apparent. His stomach churns with the longing of food. It’s been two, almost three weeks since he ate anything other than bread.

That’s four priorities. Or not. He isn’t sure. It isn’t too important to him right now, though, because his shoes are soaked with muddy puddle water and his clothes are disgusting and darker then they were before.

Wait. He squints. It’s a shelter. A small one, but there’s a cover of a thick, probably plastic sheet that stands on four flimsy stilts. He runs faster.

His feet meet the dry dirt. He skids to a stop as the rain trickles down his face. He kicks off his shoes and jacket, his socks still wet and shorts not looking so good. He isn’t looking forward to flashing someone though, so he decides to keep the shorts on. He drapes the jacket over his cold body, and then it’s just cold and darkness.

He wakes up in warmth and a soft light, mellow and kind towards his adjusting eyes. His eyes blink slowly, squinting from the new intro of light. He sits up.

The bed he’s sitting in has thick, white sheets that are warm from his body heat. There lays a table to his left with a glass of water and if he looks farther past, he sees his clothes hanging just in front of an opened window.

He checks under the blanket.

Yup. He’s wearing black shorts, airy and big around his thin waist and a long-sleeved silk white shirt. Much of a change from his raggy jacket, shirt and mid-thigh length shorts. They look old, probably someone’s clothes from when they were younger.

He pushes himself up. The want and need to stay in bed is ever so pushy. He almost flops back onto the bed after feeling the coldness of the harsh wood.

“You should sit,” a voice says softly. Tubbo’s eyes shoot up, looking at the blond person approaching him. The owner of the home, probably. “You’re sick. Would you like something to eat?”

“Where am I?”

“You’re in my home,” the person answers. “My brother found you sitting outside about a mile away. I had him change your clothes, so sorry about that. You’re in the Antarctic district. I really think you should get some more rest…”

He grimaces. Great. He has the flu _and_ he’s in the Antarctic District. “No,” he tells them, “I really should get going.”

“I don’t mind,” they chime in. “We’re quite lonely out here. And my brother doesn’t have many friends.”

“I don’t have anything to pay you,” he says snappishly. He needs to keep going, keep running. It’s not safe to stay.

“Being my brother’s friend would be enough pay to stay here,” they say. They pause for a second. “I’m Niki. My brother’s name is Ranboo, he’s fourteen.”

Tubbo stares at Niki. They look unimposing, dare he say soft. Not angry, not someone looking to use him. 

Then, he says, “Okay.” The next words fall out of his mouth like syrup, as does his name, and then his age, and then his pronouns, and soon enough, he knows Niki as what she considers a friend. Then, she’s urging him to meet Ranboo. So he complies.

Ranboo is a strange boy. He’s tall and lanky, much taller than both Niki and Tubbo by at least a foot. He’s awkward though, because when Niki helps him into his chair at supper, he squirms under Tubbo’s gaze.

“This is Tubbo,” Niki says to Ranboo. Her voice is soft and gentle but prodding him on. “He’s fourteen. He’ll be staying here for a bit, because he’s sick.”

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he says.

“Not at all,” Ranboo says. When the boy realizes that he’s said something, his eyes widen and he looks down to his plate of soup. “Sorry. You’re just fine. I do hope you’re...okay though. You looked very pale when I found you.”

“I’m fine,” he waves off, scooping the soup into his spoon carefully. “I was wandering. It had just started raining.” He eats more. “This is very good.”

“Thank you,” Niki says with a smile. “What were you doing there, Tubbo? I was very concerned when Ranboo just brought in a soaking wet boy into my home.”

He considers his answer. “I was just wandering about,” he tells them, not an exact lie. “And then it started raining, so I had to find cover. I was exhausted, and I fell asleep there.”

“Oh I see,” Niki says. Silence falls after the word, laying in front of their eyes before they all can realize. Tubbo enjoys the silence, relishes in the hot soup and warmth.

Ranboo speaks up. “Did you stray away from your parents?”

“I don’t have parents anymore,” he says swiftly. Ranboo’s eyes widen with embarrassment, his cheeks flushing pink.

“Prime, I’m so sorry,” Ranboo apologizes, poking at his soup. God, he’s made him feel bad. “So you’re all alone?”

Tubbo thinks over his answer. He replies, “Yeah, I guess so.”

The silence washes over them like a wave of water. Tubbo pretends not to notice it, eating his soup graciously. To be fair, it was very good.

The silence becomes too recognizable not soon after. The bowl is empty, a lingering warmth. He brushes his fingers against the wooden container. It’s smooth, he notes. It’s nice. 

When Niki and Ranboo both finish their food, Niki collects the bowls, stacking them on top of each other and piling the spoons onto the first bowl. She drops them into the sink, glancing up at Ranboo sitting awkwardly and him watching her, and then asks, “Do you like reading, Tubbo?”

“I was never good at it,” he tells her. That’s a bit embarrassing. Imagine not being able to read. Couldn’t be him. “My — Someone tried teaching me once but I had too much trouble and then they just gave up.”

“Ranboo, why don’t you show him your books? I think you’d like them. It’s about the Emperor,” she tells them. Ranboo glances down to the spruce floor.

He doesn’t like the Antarctic Empire. He doesn’t like Emperor Minecraft or his sons, not at all. 

“Shall we?” Tubbo finds himself saying after standing and brushing off his shirt. He reaches a hand towards him, and at the surprised, and shy, look Ranboo gives him, he smiles gently. “I’d be happy to, really.”

He isn’t. He dislikes the Emperor. But it was what Niki wanted, all she wanted in return and he can’t really deny her at this point. He doesn’t have any money. He bites his lip.

Ranboo takes his hand, standing up and pushing his chair away as he leads him back up the stone stairs and through a tall, spruce door. He opens it.

Ranboo’s room is awfully...wide? Lengthy? His bed stretches much longer than the one he was laying in, and the shelves look taller than how far he can reach. Perks of being tall: you get a bigger room.

“Niki said you’d like the one about the Emperor...but I don’t think you like him all too much.”

Tubbo’s brows furrow. He didn’t think that his face had really been obvious. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” Ranboo begins stoically, “you looked really...forced? And when you offered your hand it looked like you were making yourself stay like that. Stiff, I guess.”

Tubbo huffs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sets himself on Ranboo’s bed. “I don’t like being here, in the Antarctic Empire. I’ve never liked it.”

“Why not?” Ranboo asks. “Do you not like the weather? Or is it — Do you not like the Emperor?” His eyes widen with fear. He turns to look at Tubbo. “Are you one of those spies from 

Esempee territory?”

“What? No, ender, of course not. I’d… _no_.”

“That’s a relief,” Ranboo sighs. He slaps the open book in his hands shut, slipping it between a red book and a brown one. It fits perfectly on the bookshelf.

Tubbo glances at the shelf. It’s taller than Ranboo is, but it’s just in arm’s reach for the boy. The first few shelves are decked out with books, a few quills littering the little gap between air and the books. A tiny bottle of pink and white roses stand in the corner of one of the gaps. The next shelf has one more book, definitely one that he writes in judging by the look of the loose and crumpled pages covered with colored tabs and a bookmark poking out of the bottom. The front dons an embroidered crown proudly.

Next to the book is a literal crown, wearing lapis, emeralds and gold at the top. The indigo pillow with gold frays sits underneath it, a dip close to the crown. It must be heavy. To the side of that, half draped on the pillow, are two black and white gloves. They’re messily sat there, the sleeves for the fingers sitting delicately and peacefully.

“I like your crown,” he comments. “It’s very pretty.”

Ranboo flushes, embarrassed again. “Oh, ah, thank you. I — It was a present.”

He reaches out a hand to grab it, stopping to get Ranboo’s permission (he nods), and lifting it into his hands.

It isn’t as weighty as he thought it was, so the dip of the pillow must mean it had been sitting there for a bit. And judging from the thin layer of dust on top of the poky edges, it must’ve been there for quite a while.

The jewels are shiny, with a smooth feel to it when he brushes his fingers over it like a paintbrush would to a canvas. “These jewels must be expensive,” he muses, not glancing up from the crown. It entrances him, almost.

“They were, from what I heard,” Ranboo pipes in, gently taking it from Tubbo’s hands and running his hands over it nostalgically. “She had saved up over ten stacks of golden nuggets.”

His eyes widen. “Ten?”

“Yeah,” he replies as he sets it back onto the pillow. “A few iron nuggets as well. She was so proud of herself when she got it.”

“I’d imagine. I haven’t held a stack of golden nuggets in a long while.”

“Oh?” Ranboo’s eyes narrow. He brushes off the dust, trying to be smooth. He’s not. Just as any other normal human would be, he’s curious. Ranboo’s eyes wash over Tubbo’s body, intuitively analyzing him. His eyes seem cold, and they give him a sudden chill. They feel familiar. Scary.

“Yeah,” he says. He coughs. “Sorry, uh, what’s this?”

Ranboo’s eyes follow his finger. “Ah,” he says, taking the box into his hands. “I forgot this was only sold in the Antarctic Empire. It’s a polaroid. It takes pictures.”

“Pictures?” Tubbo prods on.

“Yeah.” He nods. “It’s very cool. Here, let me just — “ He pulls a circular thing off the front. It reveals a glass-like thing, kept in a cylinder. He shuts one eye and puts his face against the ‘polaroid’ and turns towards his window sill, a mushroom sitting on it. It flashes.

Soon, a square thingy comes sliding out the bottom. He catches it before it drops to the floor. “This,” he says, waving the sheet, “is a picture. It’s like a frozen version of life that you can keep. It stays still, and it’s only of the thing you poiny this at.”

“That’s so amazing,” he says. Ranboo giggles.

“Yeah, perhaps it is.”

Tubbo wakes to four things.

One; a cold, almost fresh breeze of air. The wind stays in place before his face and leaves him with goosebumps running underneath his white sleeping clothes. He turns. He left the window open.

Two; the opening of a door. It’s from downstairs, with the quiet click and the rusty squeak of the doorknob turning open. He needs to see what is happening.

Three; footsteps. The sound runs across the lower floor, with a quiet melody playing from underneath that follows the heavy footsteps. Not so stealthy, are they.

Four; the smell of warm, sweet bread. It floats through his room like a bat, sweeping the corners and leaving him wanting to eat. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s eaten bread that wasn’t poisoned.

Those are four things he registers in the cool morning. He jumps out of the bed hurriedly before slipping on ivory slippers and shuffling his way downstairs.

The room is empty. Except...footsteps. Right behind him.

“Ran — “

“Who are you?” he demands, spinning around and slamming them into the wall right next to the stairs. The movement makes his head seem loose, cocking to the side like he’s in a horror game. He’s tired. 

Their face is surprised, brown hair falling to frame their face. “Who are _you_?” they ask, almost angrily, squirming under his hold uncomfortably. They look uneasy, but that’s pretty explainable.

He narrows his eyes. “Why are you here.”

“I brought Niki breakfast! _My_ question is why are you pinning me to the wall! I come here every morning!” they argue frantically, their voice growing higher with incredulity. The yells make his head turn with bother. He must have a migraine. 

They wave their hands toward the beige, plastic bag. The bread’s smell comes from there. “Look,” they say, a small motion. “I _told_ you, I’m just bringing bread because they’re my _friends_. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Tubbo glances them up and down.

He releases them.

“Oh thank fucking _Prime_!” they say relievedly, panting and straightening out their maroon, knitted sweater. They start their way up the stairs. The sound pokes at Tubbo’s mind, annoyance dripped in his eyes as he watches them barrel up the steps. “Niki! Who _is_ this guy!”

Niki comes running down the stairs straight away. Her face is painted with worry, hair tangled in knots and her geometric patterned slippers knocking the floor as she steps down the stairs. “Fundy! Are you okay?”

“This guy just pinned me to the wall,” ‘Fundy’ says grumpily. What a stupid name, with the owner of someone who acts like a child. 

Niki turns to him. “Ah, Tubbo, this is Fundy. He’s my friend.”

“Oh.” Okay, now he’s sheepish. “I — I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I thought you were breaking in.”

“With bread?” Fundy asks, pointing their hands to the wooden table and the brown bag once again. They look upset.

“Thank you, again,” Niki says with a soft smile. “Ranboo! Fundy brought Puffy’s again!”

Ranboo shuffles downstairs.

“What’s got your tail in a bunch?” he asks Fundy groggily, stepping around Tubbo and Fundy to sit near Niki and the table. “You look upset.”

“ _This guy_ ,” Fundy says as he sends another glare to him, “just slammed me into the wall. Who _is_ he?”

“I found him asleep about two hundred blocks away from here,” Ranboo explains simply. “He was soaked and looked sick, so I brought him here to take care of him. He’s got the flu.”

Fundy backs away cautiously.

“I’m just fine, really,” he tells them. He sneezes. “That was bad timing.”

Niki giggles. “Yes it was. Now come on, eat. I’ll introduce you two.”

And that, she does. She tells him that he works at an ice cream shop that Ranboo frequently helps out at, parked right by where her friend ‘Puffy’ lives. Puffy’s the maker of this delicious bread, he finds out. He has to meet her and find out how she does it. 

Ranboo talks about Fundy and Sam, two of his only friends here. They’re both complete nerds, from what Niki teases. Mostly Sam. He’s a redstone genius. Fundy argues that Ranboo’s a nerd too. Niki agrees. They all laugh.

Tubbo’s head hurts, but he can find it in himself to watch with some sort of fondness. His eyes feel dry and droopy as he drinks the tea Niki made a few ticks before. It’s the food. Definitely.

Fundy’s an interesting and funny person. A bad first impression he’s left on the guy, but he’s nice. He’s a year older than Niki and has basically adopted the fact that he’s Niki and Ranboo’s older brother. Tubbo finds that hilarious. 

He talks about this other guy he met recently, 5up, a guy with stark white hair with the tips a gentle, light green. He’s tall, Fundy mentions, but not taller than Ranboo. No one’s taller than Ranboo. It kind of creeps him out.

Sam is another constant in their conversation. They don’t have much friends around here. It’s an introverted village over here. But from what Tubbo’s heard, Sam is smart and social and has this big brother energy; much like Fundy’s but _stronger_ , more of a radiation. Tubbo would love to meet him.

“It’s like,” Ranboo says energetically, halfway through a story about how Sam had gotten stuck in one of his redstone contraptions, “he didn’t expect it? But I don’t know how, he’s the most experienced and the oldest, so I don’t know how he missed something so blatantly simple.”

“He’s a stupid man,” Fundy throws in, and they all double down with laughter. He swallows the rest of his bread in a quick bite, savoring the sweet flavor of it. Yeah, he _definitely_ needs to meet Puffy and thank her.

He sneezes. His head feels dizzy.

“You should head to bed,” Niki chimes in as she drops the wrappers of the bread into the bin. “You should go home too, Fundy, I don’t want you catching the flu as well. Ranboo, help him upstairs.”

They listen to Niki. Fundy walks out the door with a quick smile and a wave, while Ranboo helps Tubbo up the sturdy steps. He helps him into bed. It’s a bit embarrassing to be handled like he’s some nan, getting helped up the stairs and getting tucked into bed. But, he doesn’t care all too much. Maybe he’s just too tired to.

He yawns. He’s definitely tired and drained from the social interaction, stretching his arms. His eyes shut close with satisfaction, a resting and calm look on his face when he drifts into sleep.

Tubbo sleeps for a while. When he does wake, the sun is setting and the gentle hum of someone outside greets him. Graciously, he picks himself up and walks to the window. 

His mind spins and his eyesight blackens for a quick second as he cranes his neck outside the open window, pushing the curtains to the side.

Niki walks around, planting shirts and pants onto a line of clothespins. The air fiddles with the clothing with the noise of the clothes turning sounding up to his sight. She struggles with reaching a higher clothespin before grunting when it drops to the floor. From behind her, a person approaches.

He slips his shoes on and hops out of the room and onto the roof.

“Hello,” they say, smiling as she looks up from the floor with wide eyes. “Need some help there?”

“Oh yes, yes,” she says, and the other person sits on the floor. They’re a bit lanky, just like how Ranboo is, but they’re suspicious. Extremely suspicious, with a pine green cloak with an embroidered guitar on the chest. The white, stark clean button-up shirt looks something of royalty, with a sense of familiarity. Maybe they’re some fake with cheap, thrifted clothing. Imposer.

Niki brushes the dirt and pebbles off their cloak. The person looks up, startled. “I’m Niki,” she says with a sweet smile. “Who would you be?”

“Ah,” they say, a hot blush on their cheeks and brown hair falling into their eyes when they look to the stone ground. “I’m, er, I’m Wilbur. It’s nice to meet you, Niki.”

“Thank you, really, Wilbur. Why don’t you come in for supper? I’ve prepared quite a lot of stew, if you’d like,” she offers.

“Oh,” they say belatedly. Tubbo concludes that they must be in a rush, ever so destressed and looking quite nervous. They don’t look like a murderer or a hacker or something, so at least Niki’s safe. But still, he is partially intrigued by this Wilbur person in general. “No, I — I mustn't intrude — “

“It’s alright, Wil,” she says. Tubbo watches Wilbur’s eyes widen with fright. His shoulders try their best to relax and lower, but they still look stiff. Scared. He was right. “I don’t mind at all.”

They stand up suddenly. Brushing off their cloak and clicking their shoes on the floor as they try knocking the dirt off. They look like a business person, Tubbo muses. “I need to leave,” they say. Both he and Niki blink with surprise. “It was really a pleasure meeting you, Niki but I have something to attend to” — there’s a hint of a lie in those words, Tubbo can sense it — “at this moment. Have a good night! Be safe!”

“Oh, bye then!” she calls. Her face falls with concern as Wilbur runs down the path and through a few people, his feet trailing down a hallway and disappearing not moments later. Niki stares at the clothespin left in her hand with a frown present on her face.

“That was strange,” he announces, jumping off the roof and landing beside Niki with an audible click. She jumps, startled. He winces at the sound, and at the pangs of hurt in his feet. “I jumped from too high. I should’ve slid down. That hurt.”

“Tubbo!” she sputters. Her voice sounds as if she’s about to scold him. Uh oh. “What were you doing?! It’s dangerous up there, and were you — were you _spying_ on me?!”

“Well,” he begins, a bit sheepish, “I’d actually just conveniently woken up just in time to witness that. And the stairs are so far away. I didn’t want you to get kidnapped.”

“There’s a person not twenty blocks away from us.”

“Maybe I was overreacting,” he admits. Really, he isn’t this sheepish and so...soft? He can take jumping off a roof, he’s done it before, but it just felt so annoying. Loud. His head pangs with hurt again. “Did you put harming or weakness in my medicine?”

“The medicine was infused with a healing potion,” she replies.

“Was there a fermented spider’s eye?”

“It might've had some,” she says, a little guilty. “Sorry, I assume spider’s eyes don’t taste the best — “

“Not...Not that,” he says as his head blurs and he feels himself get more weak. “You might’ve made me an, er, a harming potion.”

“Oh Prime!” Niki curses, grabbing onto Tubbo’s arm as he stumbles. Really, he _should not_ have jumped off that roof. He might be losing health at this point, probably already low with how he’s sick, but with jumping off the roof _and_ getting a harming potion? That’ll explain the drowsiness.

“Tubbo?” he hears Niki ask, her voice muddled like her mouth is full. “Tubbo?”

He sees a dark, magenta kind of purple and blackness as he hears Niki shout for Ranboo. Her voice is muddled and shocked and a bir worried, but then he hears nothing. It’s him left with the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thats the first chapter!!! expect each update to upload every week on saturday or sunday-ish, but thats not a very reliable schedule bc im very cluttered :( be safe !! <3


	2. memories and monotone colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You look lovely,” he blurts.
> 
> Niki’s skin falls a rosey pink. Her coral stained lips fall open and her cheeks rise into a smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear again. “Thank you, Tubbo,” she says, a genuine and affectionate tone that makes him look away.

The tea steeping in front of him smells quite nice. It’s chamomile tea, honey poured in it. Ranboo made it for him. He said it was a gift from Puffy, something akin to a get well gift.

Puffy sounds wonderful.

“She’s amazing,” Niki says after he repeats that out loud. Her eyes fall into something enamored, a soft and pure smile complete with half-lidded eyes. “I’ll take you to meet her when you get better, alright? I’ll buy you some of her lemon bars as well, they’re just delicious.”

Ranboo perks up. “Me too?”

“Yes, Ranboo, I’ll buy you something as well,” Niki sighs, a soft and fond smile on her cheeks. The hair falls from behind her ear, and it looks beautiful. Almost like a perfect picture.

“You look lovely,” he blurts.

Niki’s skin falls a rosey pink. Her coral stained lips fall open and her cheeks rise into a smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear again. “Thank you, Tubbo,” she says, a genuine and affectionate tone that makes him look away. 

Really, Niki is a real catch. She’s stunning. And he’s not even just saying this, she’s beautiful. Her hands are gentle and caring, and her eyes match Ranboo’s: a mysterious yet so readable grey-blue. 

Tubbo finds himself getting lost in the two siblings eyes, the swirly and musky monotone staying as strong and gentle as ever. It’s pleasing to the eye, almost like a water, shining in the moonlight and the sky of black dotted with grey clouds. The eyes are monotone, something that’d scare Tubbo if it were anyone else looking at him. 

But he knows them.

Niki and Ranboo are kind. With soft eyes that crinkle with each smile and can’t meet anyone’s eyes after being complimented. With a light complexion and rosy red cheeks. Truly, Tubbo can’t think of anyone who looked so gorgeous.

Niki swipes up the scattered dust laying around the room with a cloth. She talks about their sibling who once slept here, never elaborating on where said sibling actually _went_. Tubbo decides not to push.

She rambles on about how messy they were, cluttered, and how insanely smart they were. She hates to clean the room up, something signifying the sibling’s only remembrance in the house, but it’s been three years. Three years of built up dust and hoarding. He feels guilt and sorry build up in his gut.

Ranboo helps Niki push open the closet, filled with clutter and old clothing. Tubbo can spot a few glass bottles and a brewing stand, so he assumes the sibling liked brewing and often made potions. Judging from the ingredients stashed in brown, old bags, he’s right.

The smell of rotted, glistering melons stench the room. All of their noses clench as it enters the room, and he opens a window while Niki starts robbing them of their seeds.

When Niki offers to throw it out, Tubbo insists on keeping it. She sets it on the desk to his left carefully with the ingredients tucked into the desk’s drawer. 

Ranboo plays with the hawaiian shirts, popping one of the many sunglasses stored away atop his nose and grinning at Tubbo. They all laugh.

A few tools lean against the wall nearing the back of the closet. Most of it is stone, an iron sword sitting in a chest, but there’s no diamond. It’s expected, diamond tools are only used by those who can afford it. Like the Emperor. Not like them. Despite the fact they never say it, Tubbo can tell that the family is struggling financially. He can see it.

Guides and old, crumpled-up maps sit in chests. Ranboo helps carry a few of them out when Niki can’t, setting it in the corner and dumping all the loot out. There’s not too much in there anyways.

Almost like an ender pearl on display, there sits a golden crown on the top shelf of the closet. There’s a gem of every sort, in order of the rainbow. A melted, forged together redstone gem glimmers as if it has sparkles in it. A copper sits next to it, with a shined, deeper gold ore resting next to it. It goes on, with jade, lapis, and amethyst dotted on the next points.

From the way Niki and Ranboo hold their breath, their eyes lingering on it for far too long, Tubbo knows nothing will convince them to sell that crown, no matter how many stacks of diamond nuggets are offered to them. Maybe it’d even be sold for a real, actual diamond.

The emptying goes by quickly. Tubbo tidies up the desk and puts a few things in place, while Niki splits up the pile and organizes where it’ll go. Ranboo does the whole physical part of it. He relays across the house a few times, and Niki laughs and slaps him on the back when they finish.

When they finish, Niki heads to the next room to start getting ready for her work at the bakery. He and Ranboo are left to talk, and they actually talk about good topics. Ranboo teaches him about filming; cameras, lighting, the whole sha-bang. It genuinely interests Tubbo, and keeps him nodding and processing each word as Ranboo goes on.

The steps near the door break him out of his thoughts and from the conversation.

“Ranboo,” Niki says, cutting Ranboo’s words off and causing Ranboo to glance up. “How about you have Tubbo read the Tales of the SMP while I’m at work? I think he’ll like that one.”

“The Tales of the SMP?”

Ranboo sighs, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks for a quick second before glancing up. “It’s a popular book series based off of a few things that happened over two thousand years ago,” he begins. “It’s the most sold book around here.”

“It’s an amazing book,” Niki chimes in from out of the room. “I’ve read it a few times myself, but I personally like the one about the girl and the tree.”

Tubbo blinks, and Ranboo hums. The Antarctic Empire has a few strange books. They all seem like such odd topics, much different from the dark and gruesome book he’s heard of. The books he’s read are interesting, he promises he’s not some crazy psychopath. They’re just a bit...strange. About war and murder and plenty of crying.

“Have you ever read the Sadist Trilogy?” he asks, a hopeful question to make conversation. 

“No.” Ranboo shakes his head. He leans forward, his arms hung on his knees and interested eyes pointed at him. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a trilogy about this guy named Tommy,” he begins. “He and his brother, William, start a nation, and recruit Wil’s quote unquote, “son.” They recruit Tommy’s best friend as well, Tobias and someone named Alastair. They declare independence. All in all, there’s a huge thing with this guy named Clay, and Tommy and Tobias’ friendship just goes through a bunch. It’s a lovely book.”

“You said it was a trilogy, though,” Ranboo points out, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The corners of his pale lips, similar to the color of a pink tulip, start to point down in uncertainty. “What’s the next book about?”

“About the election and exile.”

“The _exile_?”

“Yes,” Tubbo confirms. “It’s all very complex, and the characters are so...realistic. But the reason I like it so much, is because it’s unfinished. The author was mid-way through writing the fourth one, but it was cut short after a disease killed her. The red vines.”

Ranboo gapes at him. “How can you _like_ a cliffhanger? Cliffhangers are terrible.”

“They interest me,” Tubbo says, the shrug adding something so nonchalant that it makes Ranboo sigh and shake his head.

As they chatter on, he sees that he and Ranboo get along wonderfully. They talk about water, peaches, ghosts, and books over tea and biscuits. The gentle patter of the rain startles Ranboo into opening his half lidded eyes with a startled look on his face.

He watches the water with halted breath. Tubbo stops in his words about bones and peaches just to see exactly what Ranboo stares at.

“Do you like rain, Ranboo?” he asks.

The brunett shakes his head. “No, I don’t. It makes me...scared.”

Tubbo studies Ranboo’s face. It feels clenched and forced, with uneasy eyes glancing between the door and the opened window. Perhaps he should close it. He doesn’t.

Their chatter is imprinted with the slight weight of uncomfortableness. Ranboo shifts on his chair at each word that falls out of his mouth, and the taller hangs onto the words Tubbo says. He keeps his gaze on Tubbo. They stray from the opened window the hardest they can. His eyebrows become stiffer with each tick.

The sound of water hitting water is enough to trigger Ranboo into glancing at the window.

The water droplets fall down onto the spruce wood, soaking the rug on the floor and turning it a deep green. They hadn’t noticed the water getting so close to them.

Ranboo drops his glasses, colored vermillion and viridescent. They clatter on the floor with a soft sound of his mouth dropping open. His breath ghosts the words _sorry_ before he hurries out of the room, leaving Tubbo to stare at the glasses. He’s so lost.

Ranboo comes in ticks later, the same book with the embroidered crown on it that sat near the actual priceless object not the day before. Now that Tubbo can really look at it, there’s white lines accentuating the little patch and the yellow, crispy pages flip through Ranboo’s hand as he looks for a free page.

Tubbo was right about the book being used quite often. The pages are decked with long paragraphs and thin, unruly sentences, nearly incomprehensible. Or, that’s just the words jumping around again. The ugly handwriting make it worse, with the way the words switch between each other, the finalized lines curling with each other.

“Quill, quill, quill…” Ranboo’s hands shake as he reaches to the desk, nicking a quill and ink jar. He dips the feather into the inky black and the liquid falls around the tip, swallowing it like the night sky would to the stars.

Frantically, Ranboo writes something on the open page. Tubbo can make out the words rain, trilogy, books, and his own name written in desperate and shaky lettering. 

When Ranboo finishes the frantic writing, he’s breathing heavily. The boy blinks a few times, taking in the murky atmosphere and looking down to the book. His eyes race across the words like they’re a ledge to hold onto tightly, engrossed.

He looks up to Tubbo. His silver eyes hold fear, embarrassment and pure, undisturbed disgust. He opens his mouth, closing it seconds later.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Ranboo says bitterly. “It’s — It’s this thing I have, and when I saw the rain it just…”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he cuts in. “Not unless I need to know. You’re not obligated to tell me about anything that just happened.” He bites his tongue. “I hope you’re alright, though.”

For a moment, Ranboo looks as if he’s shocked. Right after, his lips start to tremble and he sets his elbows on the edge of his bed. He tangles his fingers through the brown locks, a look of grieving.

“Thank you, Tubbo,” he says with the fragility in his tone like glass in the heat. “But I...I should tell you before something happens that might hurt the both of us.” His words teeter on the tone of hurt, regret and hesitance.

“Take your time.”

“I have memory problems,” Ranboo says finally. “Really, really bad memory problems. It’s always water that triggers it too. It doesn’t always trigger it, but when I see water it just makes me scared that I’ll just...that I might forget everything. I panic.” He plays with the ribbon connected to the book. “This is my memory book. I have dozens of them, all under my bed. Just in case I forget.”

The silence dances around them, like a snake curling around its prey. Tubbo bites the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it. “I can’t imagine anything that you feel when you see water, but I know that it hurts. I’ll try my best to keep you from water, I promise Ranboo. You’ll be safe.”

Tubbo grips Ranboo’s hand. He holds it tighter.

“I hate that you have to say that.”

Tubbo runs a hand down Ranboo’s back. “Don’t stress about it, memory boy.”

He feels Ranboo curl in at the next boom that occurs, lightning striking far in the distance. He runs his hand through Ranboo’s hair as the rain continues on, a soft and mellow change to the silence. The soft and fluffy locks gliding through his finger could never be more soothing.

Niki comes home late, with the scent of lemons and lilacs. He leeches the scent off of her as she props Ranboo onto her back carefully and he assists minorly. Niki must have some sort of back muscle in her, or she’s used to this, because she has no problem maneuvering him around like a puppet.

He’s left to lay down alone. Startlingly enough, the rain is what keeps him up. It doesn’t disappear ‘till around twelve, and then reappears near three. It stays until five.

Tubbo falls asleep after that, and the patter of water hitting the window, the sound is memorized in his head. It’s like drums, a sound so important and relevant but still background noise.

He’s never seen a band. But surely, it must be beautiful to see. With the loud strumming, the priceless hairstyles and outfits: he can’t imagine how cool it’d be to go to one.

He and Ranboo converse for a while the next morning, and Tubbo finds that them two go through this every night. It's begun to rain more. The more it does, the more Ranboo clings to him. It's kind of sweet, actually.

It's a routine at this point. On the fourth day, he strokes Ranboo's hair at each splash that come by, each sudden noise. He falls asleep this time, which doesn't happen often.

Ranboo's chesnut hair is long, brushed behind his ear carefully. The peacefulness of his stature calms Tubbo.

The knock on the door startles him from his focus on Ranboo.

Niki and another person — brown hair draping down, soaking the floor and her crimson, yellow and white jacket. Niki looks a bit worried, her pupils washing over the room and finally spotting Ranboo. She sighs.

“Hello there,” he says when they don’t.

“Hi,” Niki greets, a little awkwardly. “I’m...Yeah, I need to take a shower. Puffy, this is Tubbo. Tubbo, this is Puffy. I promise I’ll be quick, just talk for...give it ten minutes?”

Puffy laughs. She exits the room for a moment, Niki leaning out of the doorway to watch, and comes back with a towel and new clothing, decked in a multi-colored onesie. “I’ll be fine,” she waves off when Niki makes a sound of disapprovement.

With strong hesitance, Niki’s heels click away, the footsteps fading as she goes over to the bathroom. Tubbo stares at Puffy.

Puffy stares back. Her eyes are a deep, deep indigo with green shimmers, like emeralds hidden in monotone stone. Her face is tanned, darker than Niki’s and Ranboo’s near sheet-white skin. Her lips are a lower shade of pink and her hair dangles in front of it similar to a lamp on the ceiling. It looks like an anchor held on a rope.

“I like your food,” he blurts from absolutely nowhere. Puffy’s eyes meet his and he finds himself enraptured in them. They look like the deep sea, calling for him to dive deeper. Like sirens, wishing for him to come closer only so they can kill him. There’s some sort of chill that goes down Tubbo’s back when the gaze lingers too long.

He blushes, breaking eye contact when Puffy giggles.

She smiles at him. “Thank you. Niki’s told me an awful lot of you,” she tells him. “She can’t resist taking in kids like you.”

“I can tell,” he replies. “She and Ranboo have both been very kind to me. I’m grateful for that, and I hope I can pay them back once I get better.”

She frowns. “There’s really no need.”

“Ranboo works.”

“He works because he wants to,” Puffy returns with knitted eyebrows.

“I want to work.”

“He doesn’t even get paid,” she points out as she leans back in her chair. She picks up a red book idly, flipping through the pages.

“I’m not _looking_ to get paid,” he says, a fat emphasis on ‘looking.’ “I want to repay Niki. I promised I’d be Ranboo’s friend, but…I’m not sure if I’ll be a good one. I want to be able to return the favor in some way.”

Puffy’s face is painted with doubt. Her eyes flicker towards his lap, uncertain. Then, she says, “He’s laying on your lap, while you stroke his hair.”

His eyes widen and he pulls his hand away swiftly like he held lava itself. He didn’t even notice he was still doing that. “He was frightened ‘cause of the rain,” he murmurs embarrassedly with a hot blush touching his face. 

A smile forming on her face, Puffy nods with a satisfied huff. The next eleven minutes goes by swiftly, with Niki closing the curtains and ridding the sight of rain from the point of view of someone inside the house. 

Puffy makes a cream cheese filled bread, with raspberries and bits of a crumbly sort of cracker while Niki makes her ever so famed tea. He finds that the honey poured into the strong tea could be better and vows to show her what _real_ honey tastes like. Niki nods seriously, and both Ranboo and Puffy burst into laughter when Tubbo returns the action.

Tubbo’s tongue never seems to let go of the sweet and tart taste of the baked goods, the bread melting in his mouth and leaving his mouth warm and content with his meal. Ranboo and Niki savor the food, thanking Puffy with a warm smile.

“You should stay the night,” Ranboo comments as he swallows the food. “It’s pouring out there, and I don’t want you going down with a cold.”

Puffy smiles. “As long as you let me,” she says.

She makes them a stew complete with seasoned, crispy bread. The bread dips into the stew with a soft sizzle, and small bread crumb appear beside the meat and chopped green onions. 

Ranboo sits groggily on the chair, reveling in the strong scent and blinking tiredly. He still looks happy with it, though. He finishes it in twenty minutes flat over a conversation with all four of them. The theme of the oh-so exciting conversation (it was still funny though) being why the town is named Drywaters while being surrounded by water.

“Maybe it’s ‘cause the water feels dry,” Ranboo says. Both Tubbo and Niki laugh heartily at that, while Puffy giggles softly.

Niki dips the warm bread into the boiling stew, taking out and biting into it. The bread’s stained a darker color than it was before, and he finds himself watching the stew lapse out of the bread. Niki sets it down on her plate and says with a tone of finality, “Water is wet.”

“Agreed,” Tubbo says instantly at the same time Ranboo goes, “No?”

They stare.

“What?” Ranboo asks through a tired laugh. “I’m right. Water is not wet. It’s just what you associate with it, water itself is not wet.”

“That’s not how it works.” He shakes his head. “Okay, okay, listen. Is fire…Is fire dr…” How would you say the opposite of wet? “...dry? Firier?”

Puffy and Niki both cackle.

“That’s not how it works!” Puffy coughs, a breathless pant heaving through her as she covers her large grin. She throws a challenging eye at him, and Tubbo raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even have a word for it!”

“Well what’s the opposite of wet?”

“Hot!” Puffy shouts. Niki laughs even harder, seeming to be melting as the argument grows more and more incredulous with every second that passes. 

In the end, Niki wins the conversation. It’s almost suspected, with how she seems so good and majestic with each word. Niki smiles at Puffy, watching as the other scoffs and rolls her eyes. Nevertheless, Niki’s eyes are fond.

Something in their eyes, with a pure smile and amorous pupils that shrink when they stare at each other, makes Tubbo strive for a friendship like theirs. It’s the glimpse of an unfiltered, devoted pair of two people, and he can’t _wait_ until he finds someone like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HNNNN IM LATE BY LIKE THREE DAYS BUT HERE IS THE NEXT CHAPTER !!!! IT IS PRETTY SHORT BUT AT LEAST I GOT IT OUT ,,, anyways expect update in like two weeks cause I'm vvv burnt out and abt to fail school :D also follow my twitter : lemonjarr

**Author's Note:**

> yo so quick note that if you see any of the dynamics that tubbo has with anyone more than platonic* (esp ranboo + tommy) bc that really weirds me out. dni with this fic if you ship them cause it rlly makes me feel grossed out. on another note, pls remember this is all fake and fictional. none of this happened with the actual people.
> 
> *the only dynamics that i can stand being anything other than platonic is dnf + skephalo + puffychu :)
> 
> luv u and stay safe :] <3


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